by Anna Drake
With the packet of photos resting on the seat beside me, I pulled away from Megan’s house intending to do a little exploring of my own. At Carroll Street, I pointed my car’s nose east instead of west and headed toward the farm fields beyond Hendricksville’s borders.
I hadn’t driven in the country for some time, so I was startled by how tall the corn had grown and how quickly. At one time, farmers hoped corn would be knee high by the Fourth of July. Now, it was more likely to be taller than a man’s shoulders by that date.
As I drove, I kept an eye on the road markers. The county had a system that numbered the county highways starting on the south side. The north/south roads were numbered with high numbers running from east to west. I found the system highly confusing,
I struggled to find my destination, which was 6391 North 743th Road. It might sound simple, but I found the system endlessly confusing. I could only wish I’d been around when this formula was proposed, I would have raised all sorts of opposition. But after driving around for about twenty minutes, I finally stumbled on the place.
It was a handsome-looking farm. A large white, clapboard house with green shutters at the windows sat proud and tall atop an impressive hill. A stand of walnut and oak trees spread out behind the dwelling. To its right and left were fields stuffed full of corn and soybean plants, all green and looking extremely healthy. Farmer Sam Hillman appeared to know his stuff.
Surrounding the house were several buildings, including a barn and some metal grain bins. The lane leading from the road to the house had about five cars parked along its edge. I assumed they belonged to people who were now inside offering Sam their condolences.
I suppressed a smile. I knew that inside the farmhouse, Andrew was hard at work collecting names and the details of what was being discussed. I longed to pull into the driveway and join the crowd, but I had no excuse to do so. The best I could do, I decided, was to stop at the store on my way home and buy some ham, which I could then convert into a dish of scalloped potatoes to deliver to the the widower tomorrow.
I pulled into a neighboring lane. It led to a long, low ranch house. I pulled my car up in front of it’s front door. A bed with a mixture of daylilies danced a gay welcome. I braked and switched of the ignition. Grabbing my purse, I exited the car and strode up to the door.
A young woman, looking to be somewhere in her middle thirties responded to the doorbell. She cast an appraising glance over me. “If you’re looking for the Hillman house, it’s across the road.”
“No, I don’t know the Hillman’s.”
The woman blushed. “Sorry, I thought maybe you were one of those ghouls who’ve been driving past eager to see where poor Willa Hillman was murdered.”
“You knew her, then?”
The woman nodded. “Of course. We were neighbors.”
“I feel sorry for the husband. It must have come as such a shock.”
The lady took a step back from the doorway. “You’re not a reporter, are you?”
I laughed. “Hardly. Haven’t you noticed all these wrinkles? I”m just a woman who was running an errand for my daughter. She gave me some photos she wanted delivered to a couple named the Harrisons. Only I can’t find the house. Do you by any chance know them?”
“I can’t say that I do.”
“Drats. My daughter gave me detailed instructions, but obviously I’ve messed them up somehow.”
“If you want to come in, you could use my phone to call her.”
Believe it or not, I considered that option for a moment. I finally dismissed it when I thought of Megan’s response. I’d confuse the heck out of her asking her to clarify instructions she’d never given me for people whose name she’d never heard.
No, if I were going to pump this woman for information, I’d have to come up with something better than that. “That’s okay. I have my cell phone with me. She should be home soon. I’ll try her then.”
“In that case….”
“Aren’t you nervous out here with a murder having taken place so near your house?”
She cast a quick glance around her front yard. “Sure. A little. My husband, Al, has taken the shotgun from the closet and is keeping it next to the bed. We’ve got three children. We’re not going to let anything bad happen to them.”
“Well, maybe the murder was specific. Maybe the killer only wanted to kill Willa.”
“I can’t think why. She was a friendly, outgoing person. She didn’t deserve to die.”
I compared that description to my memory of the one who’d turned up and my house and blinked. Maybe Willa’s tiger-like qualities only came out when Sam was involved.
“How did she and her husband get on?” I asked.
“Ah, that’s just it isn’t it. I’ve read that nine times out of ten, it’s the spouse that’s done it. I don’t think that’s true in this case, though. Sam treated Willa very well.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that. I hate it when one spouse kills another.”
The woman nodded. “Me, too.”
***
Andrew popped in at around eight that night. I was assembling the ham casserole to take to Sam’s house tomorrow.
“It was mostly women,” he chortled.
I glanced up. “Who were?”
“The friends showing up to comfort Sam on his loss. I think most of them were hoping they’d one day step into Willa’s shoes.”
“Nonsense,” I said, although I knew he was probably correct. I had read about this happening, this habit of widows to turn out for a freshly minted widower. Most thought it was done in hopes of snagging his affections, although I couldn’t imagine a worse moment to attempt such a thing. I mean the gentleman was grieving.
Andrew watched me as I poured the cream and cheese mixture over the potatoes and ham. “What are you up to?”
“I’m making a casserole to take over to Sam.”
“You’re not.”
“I am.”
His face looked suddenly pinched. “Don’t tell me you’re going to throw yourself at him, too?”
“Of course not. I just want to see his face. I want to hear what is said.”
“What about my report? Are you going to dismiss it? I’ve been with him all day.”
“No, I want to know what you’ve learned. It’s just my curiosity, I guess. I can’t stand to stay away.”
Andrew scoffed. “Curiosity my foot. He’s a good looking man. You’re going to start throwing yourself at him, too.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not after anyone.”
Andrew shook his head, his mouth downturned. “Somehow, I believe you when you say that.”
“Well good, because it’s the truth.”
I’d loved my life with my husband. I had no intention of stepping into a new relationship at my age. “So what have you learned?”
Andrew folded his arms over his chest and scowled. “Sam is well liked by his neighbors... both men and women. Lots of his fellow farmers came by to give him their condolences.”
“So it wasn’t all women?”
“No, but there were enough of them, heaven knows.”
“Did you hear anything that might give us a clue as to the murder?”
“Not really. Sam did talk about finding Willa’s body in the forest. He sounded pretty broken up.”
“He might be a good actor.”
Andrew nodded. “That’s possible.”
I slid the casserole in the oven. “Didn’t you hear anything suspicious?”
“There was a phone call. I have no idea what it was about. but after it, Sam seemed visually upset.”
“Do you have any idea who’s the caller was?”
“I think it might have been Oberton, but I can’t prove it.”
I glanced up at him. “Tomorrow then, while I’m at Sam’s place, why don’t you give Oberton’s office a visit? Stay for about an hour. Learn whatever you can. Then, when I’m ready to return home, you can go on and watch Sam for the rest of the day.
”
“You’re not staying long?”
“No. why would I? I just want to get a feel for what he’s going through, and how he’s treated by his friends and neighbors. I’ll rely on you to pick up the important stuff.”
Andrew appeared to cheer up at that news.
“I have something for you.”
His head jerked up. “What’s that?”
I picked up the manilla envelope from the table containing the photos Megan had given me.I spread them out on the table. “Come take a look at these.”
He drifted nearer.
“Do those photos look at all like the one you saw at Lawry’s home?”
“Yes, that second shot is an exact copy of the one I saw in his living room.”
***
Again the next morning, Andrew was gone bright and early. Apparently he couldn’t wait to get back to his tasks. I puttered about in the kitchen, making toast, meeting Blackie’s needs, and at the end of all that, I slipped the casserole from the refrigerator into the oven to warm. Then, I filled a mug with tea and wandered out onto the porch.
The day was muggy. There was rain in the forecast. I cast an eye over the flowers and was pleased with what I saw. A variety of blossoms bobbed on the morning air. I would soon need to deadhead again, and weeding was a constant battle. I took a sip of tea and nodded. In the end, it was worth the work. I can’t say I had a green thumb, but at least it didn’t appear to be a black one either.
Now, if only my efforts on behalf of my son-in-law would go nearly as well, I’d be a lot happier. Poor Damon. I couldn’t imagine the toll he was laboring under. I was determined however, not to let my grandson’s father go under. I would do whatever I could to keep my son-in-law out of jail, and I was pleased to think that on some level he knew that.
After making myself presentable, I loaded the casserole into my car and took off. Having discovered the way yesterday, my drive to Sam’s place today took me only ten minutes.
Ominous clouds hung over my head as I pulled into his driveway. Thunder rumbled in the distance. I would try to return home before the storm struck. Blackie was terrified of bad weather.
A woman looking to be about my age opened the door at my knock. “May I help you?” she asked.
“I brought a casserole,” I answered.
“How thoughtful of you.” She reached out and accepted the dish. “Do I know you?”
I had the good grace to blush and introduce myself. “I’m new to the area. I’ve only met Sam and Willa recently. But I had to come. I’m so sorry for his loss.”
She introduced herself, explaining that she was Sam’s sister. She dredged up a feeble smile. “Please come in. Sam is in the living room. I’m sure he’ll appreciate your sentiments. If you’re hungry, there’s food and coffee laid out in the dining room. Help yourself.”
I spotted Sam sitting in the far corner of the living room. He appeared lost in conversation with the two people seated beside him. I knew neither of them, so I peeled off to the dining room to grab a quick cup of coffee.
“Hetty,” someone said from behind me. I turned and found Laura Day standing there.
I shook my head in amazement. “Is there anyone you don’t know?”
“When you grow up in a town as small as this one, it’s unlikely”
I poured myself a coffee.
“What are you doing here?” Laura asked. “I didn’t know you knew Sam.”
“Of course, I didn’t know him well. But we had come in contact just recently. I would think you were a little too young to know Sam and Willa well.”
“Actually, we were cousins. Willa and I. That’s also not uncommon in small towns.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. But Sam is my cousin, not Willa. I’m sorry for her, but I’m worried about Sam. How are you coming with the knitting group problem?”
“I haven’t made contact with Valerie yet. She was supposed to call me when she returned from her trip, but I’ll try phoning her when I get home.”
“Please do. I’d like to have the question resolved before our next session.
I nodded and wondered how I could possibly succeed.
“I’d better get going,” Laura said. “I have a bunch of errands to run before I get home.”
“Glad to have run into you.”
“I bet you just can’t wait to tear into this kitting issue,” she teased as she walked away.
I watched her proceed through the living room, saying her farewells to Sam and a number of other people as well.. Noting that his two prior visitors had moved on, I walked over and joined Sam, seating myself in a small chair to his right. “I was so sorry to hear about Willa.”
“That’s kind of you,” he answered. “Ah… I guess Willa came to see you?”
“Yes, she did. She told me that you and Eva had made plans to run off. That’s not something you mentioned when I first talked to you.”
He blinked. “She told you that?”
I nodded. I felt a little bit guilty. The man had just lost his wife, but my mind was still focused on murder.
He scowled. “I didn’t kill Eva, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I hope that’s true.”
“I loved her. I truly did. But in the end I had to let her go back to New York alone.”
“Why?”
He glanced about his home before returning his attention to me. “Because of the children. Because of the farm. Because I already had a wife.”
“That’s not how you started the evening.”
“I know.”
“Where did you leave her?”
He took a deep breath. “Standing in front of the door to her motel room.”
“How was she?”
He shook his head. “Distraught. But she said she understood. She had her own life. She had her own goals. She had hoped we could merge them. In the end, I couldn’t see my way clear to do that. The children were young. I had crops in the field. I couldn’t just walk away.”
“Who do you think killed her?”
His face darkened. His fingers curled into fists. “I only wish I knew.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The first flash of lightning descended on Hendricksville when I reached the outskirts of town. I thought of Blackie cowering in some corner while the storm played out its fury. I goosed the gas and rushed onward. I had the the town to get through and the bridge to cross before I reached home.
I had spent the drive to this point reviewing Sam’s words. He claimed he was innocent. He alleged Eva had been alive when he left her. I hadn’t even bothered to ask him about his wife. If he was lying, he’d only do so again. Besides, I had no way to tell if he was lying or not.
I still liked him as the killer. Eva was with him the night she died. she was a threat to his way of life. I had only his word that that they had mutually decided to part. Willa, also, I thought, made a good suspect, but not now that she was dead she seemed the likely killer. No one was claiming she’d committed suicide.
What I needed to learn, I thought, was how the killer got into the Lowry attic. In the meantime I thought, recalling Laura’s dear face, I had a knitting group to set right.
I barrelled my car into the driveway and didn’t bother putting it away in the garage. Holding my purse over my head, I made a dash for the house. Rain poured down on me. Thunder rumbled. I slammed open the back door. “Blackie?” I called out. I heard a pitiful meow in return, and a few seconds later, Blackie slinked into the room.
“Come here, old fellow.” I sank onto a kitchen chair and patted my lap. “Come up. Come on. He jumped. “There’s a good boy,” I said. My arms circled his body. I hugged him to my chest. He leaned his head into my shoulder. His entire body was trembling.
“Don’t worry. It’s just a storm. It will be over soon.” He looked up at me, then headbutted my chin.
I sat with him on my lap for the next ten minutes as the storm gradually wore itself out. Fina
lly, when the rain was nothing more than drips falling from leaves and roofs, Blackie rallied and hopped to the floor. I stood and reached inside the cupboard and withdrew two treats which I placed the on the floor
Then crossing to the long counter, I pulled open a drawer, withdrew the local phone book, and tracked down the phone number for Valerie Jarrett.
“Valerie,” I said when she answered. “This is Hetty Fox. I’ve been nominated by the knitting group to meet with you to see if we can work out a better solution to your proposal.”
“Yes. I’ve listened to the message you left on my machine. Sorry about not getting back to you sooner, but I only got home last night. What kind of solution are you suggesting?” she asked suspiciously.
“I don’t know yet. That depends on what you and I can work out. I’m hoping whatever that is, I’ll be able to take it back to the group and sell it to them.”
“When do you want to get together?”
“Whenever is the most convenient for you?”
“This afternoon?”
“That sounds fine. What time?”
“How about three?”
“That works for me. Why don’t you come to my place? I’ll make tea.”
So we left it like that — one of the women praying to find a compromise, the other intent on having her own way.
***
Valerie arrived at my front door shortly before three that day.
If she was unhappy about a search for a compromise, she didn’t show it. She was what I would call a medium woman: medium tall, medium build, and hair evenly divided between black and grey. But when I looked into her eyes, I realized she was also a very determined woman. I knew she wouldn’t back down from her goal just to please me.
“How did you get stuck with this thankless job?” she asked as she stepped through the doorway. She shrugged off a sweater, which I draped across the back of a chair.
“It wasn’t difficult,” I said. “All it takes is knowing the right sort of people.”
She laughed.
“No,” I went on to explain, “Laura Day felt since I was the newest member, I’d be the most flexible, too. As you can imagine, your suggestion has raised some opposition from long-term members. Shall we go to the dining room?”